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whenthesnowfelloverwinterfell · 11 months

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Vatic - Prologue "Portrait"

Series Description : The youngest daughter of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen lives her life to her mother's will, treading lightly to always please her. Y/n lives to her mother's rules, and when she chooses to make her own decisions, that she knows go against her mother, they have disastrous consequences.

Chapter Description : The queen discovers a portrait of a long forgotten Targaryen princess.

A/n : This prologue is related to an old fic I wrote back in 2018/2020 that is available on Ao3. You do not have to read that entire fic in order to enjoy this one. You could even skip the prologue if you wanted. This chapter was super self indulgent lol. There will be a different version of this pic on Ao3 that has many more illusions to my old fic ( but it will be an original character rather than an x reader )

Warnings : None in this one I don't think.

Pairing : eventual Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader ( cannon typical targcest idk what to tell you )

Word Count : 2.4k

“Beautiful portrait,” Y/n commented, stepping up beside Samwell, his toddler son also admiring the portrait, while little Samwell was likely off with his mother, Gilly.

Samwell jumped a bit at her sudden appearance. “Apologies, your Grace, I didn’t know you were here.”

Y/n shrugged and shook her head, resting a hand on her swollen stomach. “Don’t apologize. it is the middle of the night, everyone has gone to bed, I wouldn’t suspect anyone to be awake either. Especially the queen, but it seems I am carrying a restless prince.” she joked, examining the portrait in front of her. a gold-painted frame protecting it. even in the low lighting with only two lanterns to light the corridor, you could see the cracks in the varnish of the painting. It was old.

“Which of the noble houses sent this one? We have dozens in storage. I’ve tried to tell their lords and ladies to stop sending them until the keep was fully rebuilt.”

She could feel Samwell turn his head to look at her, the same way Jon usually did whenever he knew something that she didn’t. One of them certainly had picked it up from the other during the years at the northern wall.

“Queen Sansa sent it. It only just arrived today.”

That brought a smile to Y/n’s lips. Just hearing the name of her beloved friend would always warm her heart. Knowing she was safe in her ancestral home, which she had longed to return to for many years. “Then I shall make an exception, I won’t return this one.” As she said it she reached out and with delicate fingers, touched the ornate carvings in the frame, noticing the entanglement of what seemed to be a direwolf and what, in the dull lighting, appeared to be a bat’s wing within the carving.

“Your Grace?” Y/n turned her head now to look at the maester.

“Yes, Samwell?”

“Do you know who this is?” Y/n looked toward the portrait once more, examining the woman’s face. Pale skin clashed with the dark fabric she wore for her portrait, a slim silver coronet, encrusted with sapphires adorning her head with what, at some point, must’ve clearly been a sheer veil covering her hair. The work in the portrait was beautiful, perfectly encapturing the woman’s resentful expression. That resentment could have once been any number of things. Love, sorrow, happiness. . . It reminded her of a portrait of her mother she’d seen once while she’d been at Casterly Rock as a child.

“I can’t say that I do.” She admitted, stepping back from it. “It seems she’s a stranger to me.”

There was a moment of silence until Samwell’s son yawned and leaned into his father’s embrace, bringing a small smile to her face once more.

“The portrait is of Y/n Targaryen.”

“That’s not a Targaryen name. That’s a Lannister name.” Y/n spoke, continuing to admire the woman’s expression.

“A Lannister once married into Hightower. . . many centuries ago. The name went with her. And it would appear that Queen Alicent was able to name her daughter after her own mother”

The thought seemed silly to the queen. She and a Targaryen Princess sharing a name.

“I know most people in Westeros do not know of her, but I would have assumed that someone who was brought up as a princess, and offered the best education would practically know the entire Targaryen family tree.”

Y/n chuckled a bit while the babe that had decided to grow in her belly chose to kick. “I learned most of what Grand Maester Pycell was supposed to teach me and my brother on my own. There’s not much you can learn from an old man who smells like a dead cat and speaks at the same pace that a tortoise walks, all the while Joffrey was trying to stab me with his quill. Forgive me if I missed a few lessons about Targaryen royalty that was not an heir, nor involved in any war.”

Samwell took in a sharp breath.

“Y/n was born not even a full year after her older brother, Aemond, we know that it wasn’t any more than a year, but we don’t know exactly how long, the dates are fuzzy. Maesters wrote that they were shocked when Queen Alicent had a child after Y/n. They were convinced that having two children so close together would prevent her from ever being with child again. It was said that Y/n’s birth was the most painful Alicent Hightower ever had. The bloodiest and longest. Her screams were heard throughout the entire Red Keep. Her brothers and sister crying up a storm from it. Princess Rhaenyra tried to seek out solitude in the gardens, but she could still hear the Queen from there. . . And then nothing. Not a cry, or scream. King Viserys, with all the strength he had at that time, rushed to Alicent’s childbed when he noticed silence had taken over the keep. When he’d burst into the room. Alicent was sitting on the ground blood underneath her, on the sheets, the maester, the midwives, and on the septa. . . In Alicents arms was Y/n.”

Samwell grew quiet.

“And?” Y/n inquired, looking at the maester with intrigue.

Samwell looked at Y/n, yet his eyes refused to fully meet hers, darting around her face and hair instead before he took a steep intake of air and looked back at the portrait. “Y/n looked like a Targaryen. She had pale skin, the silver hair. . . but unlike her siblings when they were born, she was quiet, looking around the room until she was given to her mother. It’s said that Alicent had begun to cry when she looked at Y/n. Because instead of having the Targaryen eyes, she had Alerie Hightower’s eyes. Alicent’s mother’s eyes, mostly anyway.”

Y/n looked back at the portrait once more, stepping closer to the portrait and grabbing the lantern hanging from the wall, clumsily crouching down, her stomach throwing her balance off. Holding the lantern close to the portrait, she was able to make out the color of richly saturated green eyes,a sector of what was Y/n’s left iris having a portion of lilac, in the same shape as a slice of pie.

“I’ve never heard of this princess, Samwell.”

“Most people don’t speak of her now. But she was a force back then. After her and her husband’s deaths, and after her second-oldest son became the lord, his wife got rid of almost every painting, piece of jewelry, or clothing that Y/n hadn’t given to her daughters before her death. She tried to erase her existence. She almost succeeded. We wouldn’t even truly know what she looked like had one of her own sons not snuck this portrait away and hid it with his sister at Karhold. She’s hardly ever spoken about when maesters write their histories on the dance of dragons, a brief mention. And it would seem people who are descended from her, hardly know it.”

Y/n continued to look at the portrait, admiring the detail. the silver coronet likely ornately engraved and bejewled to fit a Targaryen princess, or perhaps, in real life, it was as understated as it was in the portrait. “Why would Sansa send this to us? If it was in the north then it should remain where she’s been kept all this time, should it not?”

Silence overtook them again. This time however, Y/n was so absorbed in staring at the woman in the painting, feeling as though she recognized her eyes, yet at the same time knowing she’d never seen this painting before, nor had she ever heard of Y/n Targaryen.

“Your Grace. . . Is it alright if I take you to my library? There’s a book that an Archmaester from the citadel sent me recently. . . It’s about Y/n.”

“Samwell, I’m the queen and a mother to three young girls who know no such thing as peace, I’d never eat if it wasn’t for my husband practically holding me down and forcing me to, I doubt I’d have the time to read installments about a strangers life.”

“Y/n. . .”

Y/n looked up at Samwell once more, his son passed out in his arms, a pleading look in his eyes, practically begging her to just go with him to the library. “your uncle will soon have to fill in for you after you’ve had the babe. And you’re the queen, you can do as you’d like. And I’m sure Jon will have you confined to your bed fairly soon.” Y/n gave a bitter chuckle. It seemed it was clear to everyone in the castle that the Queen’s husband had grown extremely protective of her as she’d entered the late stages of her third pregnancy. The only one he’d been there for its entirety. It wasn’t his fault, just the fault of their circumstances when they’d first come together, and the circumstances of the end of the war.

“He’ll be doting on the babe so much you’ll have more than enough time to get through the book. It’s not as long as most I have.”

“Alright,” Y/n spoke as she stood up bracing one hand against the wall as she did, taking one look at the portrait again as she followed Samwell to his library, where he’d pulled out what looked to be an ancient book, bound in black leather, with red metallic paint in the indents to spell out the name of the book. ‘The Forgotten Princess, Y/n Targaryen.’

“Giving me a book to answer a simple question is something Tyrion would do.” Y/n joked, taking the heavy book from the maester. “Get your son to bed. I’m sure Gilly won’t be pleased come tomorrow if her youngest son fusses all day.”

Samwell nodded, and with that, Y/n left his library, carrying the book and the lantern as she made her way back to her chambers, as she approached the door, she saw Jon speaking with the guard outside their door, Brienne.

A grin crept onto her face as Jon’s head turned, and he spotted her making her way down the hall. “Y/n!” he scolded, making quick strides to meet her where she was. “I woke up and you were gone, Brienne said she didn’t see you leave.” As Jon reached her, he quickly pulled her into his embrace, kissing the crown of her head, one of his hands resting on the side of her bump.

“I went for a walk.” She explained, looking over to Brienne.

“Your Grace, you had us worried.”

“I thank every god, old, new, the drowned god, whatever gods the Targaryens believed in that the Targaryen put secret passageways into the castle.” Y/n said, leaning up to kiss her husband’s cheek with reassurance.

“You shouldn’t be using the passageways.” He scoffed, worry clearly written into his face, his fingers getting a tight grip on her lower back. “We don’t know which ones are safe or not.”

It had been a discussion before, how Daenerys’s attack on King’s Landing, and on the Red Keep destroyed some of the passageways, and made the others structurally unsound. It was why Y/n and Jon had ensured that Lucia hadn’t been given a room with any passageways, or at least not any that were easy to access. It was why the twins slept in their nursery with a nursemaid still.

“I needed solitude,” Y/n said quietly, resting her head on his chest, taking in the sound of his beating heart. It was going faster than it usually did. She’d worried him. “I apologize, my love.” she added, pulling her head away from his chest, bringing a hand to hold the side of his face. “You’ve slept so peacefully these last few months, I did not think I’d wake you. Come,” she ushered, grabbing his hand with her own, stepping towards the open bed-chamber door. “Let us go back to bed.”

“Your Grace, for your safety please do not use the passageways,” Brienne spoke as Y/n made it through the threshold of the doorway, Jon closing it not long after. She didn’t even have a second to sit down before he wrapped his arms around her again.

It had taken her off guard. She didn’t know what to make of his current state. She hadn’t seen him like this in nearly two years.

“It terrified me.” he confided. “I used to have these dreams. . . when I was at the wall. That I would wake up next to you, That we’d lived entire lives with one another, and whenever I was about to wake up, the dream would have me waking up to an empty bed.” His voice was shaking. “I thought it was a dream. That any second I would wake up and find myself back at the wall.”

Y/n wrapped her free arm around his torso, holding him as close to her as she could, given the obstruction of her bump between them. What words could she have possibly come up with to give him any comfort? He was scared to lose her. And she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t had similar dreams.

After a moment’s silence, she pulled away, once again, resting her hand against the side of his face. “You will never awake at the wall again. Because If you do, I’m back here again. . . scheming young girl being used as a political pawn. But neither of us will be back to those states. . . we’re here. You are my husband, the war is over, we have three beautiful daughters, and a handsome son on the way-”

“Daughter.” Jon interrupted, the ghost of a grin playing at the corners of his lips.

“Don’t say that.” Y/n shook her head. “I want a son this time. If you haven't given me a boy I’m going to be very upset with you.”

The two stared at one another. Eyes that had both seen so much, that had searched for each other across dinners and court events from opposite ends of the hall.

“You made me forget what I was going to say, I was trying to be sweet!” Y/n withdrew her hand from his cheek, playfully hitting his chest. An eruption of laughter bubbled up from his throat, throwing his head back and grabbing hold of the hand that had hit him.

Y/n scowled at him, watching as his laughter died down and he looked down at her once more. “I knew what you were going to say, my love.” Jon put both hands on her hips. “I know that this is what is real, But sometimes I believe my mind likes to play tricks on me.”

Jon looked down to Y/n’s side, noticing the book in her hands. “What is that?” He inquired.

Y/n lifted it up for him to see. “A book about Y/n Targaryen. Samwell loaned it to me after Sansa sent a portrait of her”

“I’ve never heard of the name before.”

“Nor have I.” Y/n agreed.

Add yourself to the taglist!

#house of the dragon fanfic #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #game of thrones fic #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond x you

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thelustybraavosimaid · 2 years

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Blatant foreshadowing:

"Kings are a rare sight in the north."

Robert snorted. "More likely they were hiding under the snow. Snow, Ned!" (Eddard I, AGoT)

"King," croaked the raven. The bird flapped across the solar to land on Mormont's shoulder. "King," it said again, strutting back and forth.

"He likes that word," Jon said, smiling.

"An easy word to say. An easy word to like."

"King," the bird said again.

"I think he means for you to have a crown, my lord."

"The realm has three kings already, and that's two too many for my liking." Mormont stroked the raven under the beak with a finger, but all the while his eyes never left Jon Snow.

It made him feel odd. (Jon I, ACoK)

He had known what Snow was the moment he saw that great white direwolf stalking silent at his side. One skinchanger can always sense another. Mance should have let me take the direwolf. There would be a second life worthy of a king. (Prologue, ADwD)

When Gilly entered, she went at once to her knees. Jon came around the table and drew her to her feet. "You don't need to take a knee for me. That's just for kings." (Jon II, ADwD)

"My uncle declared for Stannis, in hopes it might provoke the Lannisters to take poor Harry's head. Should my brother die, Karhold should pass to me, but my uncles want my birthright for their own. Once Cregan gets a child by me they won't need me anymore. He's buried two wives already." She rubbed away a tear angrily, the way Arya might have done it. "Will you help me?"

"Marriages and inheritance are matters for the king, my lady. I will write to Stannis on your behalf, but—" (Jon IX, ADwD)

"Shortly." Sigorn might take it as a slight if he did not appear. And this marriage is mine own work, after all. (Jon X, ADwD)

He rose and dressed in darkness, as Mormont's raven muttered across the room. "Corn," the bird said, and, "King," and, "Snow, Jon Snow, Jon Snow." That was queer. The bird had never said his full name before, as best Jon could recall. (Jon XII, ADwD)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No. He was a great man. A maester of the Citadel, chained and sworn, and Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch, ever faithful. When he was born they named him for a hero who had died too young, but though he lived a long long time, his own life was no less heroic. No man was wiser, or gentler, or kinder. At the Wall, a dozen lords commander came and went during his years of service, but he was always there to counsel them. He counseled kings as well. He could have been a king himself, but when they offered him the crown he told them they should give it to his younger brother. How many men would do that?" Sam felt the tears welling in his eyes, and knew he could not go on much longer. "He was the blood of the dragon, but now his fire has gone out. He was Aemon Targaryen. And now his watch is ended." (Samwell IV, AFfC)

"Allow me to give my lord one last piece of counsel," the old man had said, "the same counsel that I once gave my brother when we parted for the last time. He was three-and-thirty when the Great Council chose him to mount the Iron Throne. A man grown with sons of his own, yet in some ways still a boy. Egg had an innocence to him, a sweetness we all loved. Kill the boy within you, I told him the day I took ship for the Wall. It takes a man to rule. An Aegon, not an Egg. Kill the boy and let the man be born." The old man felt Jon's face. "You are half the age that Egg was, and your own burden is a crueler one, I fear. You will have little joy of your command, but I think you have the strength in you to do the things that must be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born." (Jon II, ADwD)

The fandom:

#asoiaf #jon snow #ramble

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agentrouka-blog · 2 years

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Do you think whenever something is mentioned next to the phrase "if gods are good" then the likelihood of that event happening is miniscule and the opposite of that happens?

Hi anon,

you can't do this to me! I get curious and stupid.

I went and checked out every mention of that phrase (excluding “Gods be good” or the affirmative “the gods were good” - coming to a total of 42 uses) and it is exactly as you say.

It’s almost a guarantee for the opposite.

Curiously, the pattern only holds up through ASOS and begins to corrode in AFFC. In ADWD and the TWOW sample chapters, the chances of things happening in spite of the phrase increase quite a bit.

Let’s look at all the examples. :)

~~~

"If the gods are good, I shall not be here on your return. You commanded me to return to Winterfell, remember?" (AGOT, Eddard X)

-> -> Ned stays and dies.

"If the gods are good, they will grant us a warm autumn and bountiful harvests, so we might prepare for the winter to come." (ACOK, Prologue)

-> -> They don’t.

"Shae is not the first to grace my bed, and one day I may take a wife and sire a son. If the gods are good, he'll look like his uncle and think like his father." (ACOK, Tyrion II)

-> -> UNDECIDED, but strong tendency toward NO.

"Good. Craster's Keep is just ahead. If the gods are good, he'll let us sleep by his fire." (ACOK, Jon III)

-> -> Jon doesn’t.

And if the gods are good, Bywater will find Arya alive, before Robb learns she's gone missing. (ACOK, Tyrion VI)

-> -> He doesn’t.

If you never tell, never speak of it, will it become only a dream, less than a dream, a nightmare half-remembered? Oh, if only the gods would be so good. (ACOK, Catelyn VII)

-> -> SEMI-SUBVERTED. Bran and Rickon are NOT dead. But it’s not because Catelyn kept silent, and she never finds out.

“It's Cersei and Tyrion who concern me. As well as my lord father."

"They live, all three." But not long, if the gods are good. (ACOK, Catelyn VII)

-> -> All three outlive Catelyn.

"I want him burned. If the gods are good, they'll burn him, but I won't be here to see. I'm going." (ACOK, Sansa VII)

-> -> Tyrion is slashed with a sword, not burned. MAYBE LATER?

"If the gods are good," Osha said in a low angry voice, "the Others will take them that did this work." (ACOK, Bran VII)

-> -> UNDECIDED but it doubt we’ll see Ramsay return as a wight if his dogs eat him?

If the gods are good, a patrol will chance by and put an end to this. (ASOS, Jon IV)

-> -> No patrol appears, the wildlings climb the Wall.

If the gods are good, they will send her a daughter, Sam prayed. (ASOS, Samwell II)

-> -> Gilly’s child is a boy.

He wondered if Petyr Baelish had reached the Vale yet. If the gods are good, he ran into a storm at sea and sank. (ASOS, Tyrion VI)

-> He lives.

If the gods were good, the Mad Mouse would make the same mistake. (AFFC, Brienne II)

-> Her stalker ends up being Podrick, who doesn’t underestimate her at all.

"Our lord father was murdered in that tower. I cannot bear to look at it. If the gods are good, the fire may smoke a few rats from the rubble."

Jaime rolled his eyes. "Tyrion, you mean." (AFFC, Cersei III)

-> No Tyrion appears.

If the gods are good, we will pass Maidenpool before he knows that I am there. ( AFFC, Brienne III)

-> She cannot avoid Randyll Tarly.

"If the gods are good, we may catch a glimpse of a unicorn." (AFFC, Samwell II)

-> -> No unicorns for Dareon.

"Let them rot there," declared Ser Kennos cheerfully. "If the gods are good, they'll be swallowed up in quicksand or gobbled down by lizard-lions." (AFFC, Jaime IV)

-> -> They are not.

"If the gods are good, you will have sons of your blood to follow you. Why would you throw all that away for . . . for some vow?" (AFFC, Jaime IV)

-> -> UNDECIDED but strong tendency that Lancel will never have children.

If the gods were good, he would give Ser Loras the glorious end he seemed to want. (...) Ser Loras lusts for glory as real men lust for women, the least the gods can do is grant him a death worthy of a song. (AFFC, Cersei VII)

-> -> He is horribly injured and disfigured but lives.

If the gods were good, each of them would kill the other, like Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk. (AFFC, Cersei VII)

-> -> UNDECIDED but strong tendency that Bronn and Loras will not kill each other.

As for his lady mother, if the gods are good this news will kill her. (AFFC, Cersei VIII)

-> -> Loras remains alive and so does Olenna.

"The smallfolk call it the crossroads inn. Elder Brother told me that two of Masha Heddle's nieces have opened it to trade once again." He raised his staff. "If the gods are good, that smoke rising beyond the hanged men will be from its chimneys." (AFFC, Brienne VII)

-> -> SUBVERTED. It is the Crossroads Inn.

If the gods are good, he'll slip and fall. (AFFC; Brienne VII)

-> -> Rorge doesn’t. Biter will push her into the mud, though.

If the gods were good, Wat might die beneath the lash, leaving Margaery with no way to disprove his testimony. (AFFC, Cersei X)

-> -> Wat the blue bard remains alive.

The most beautiful woman in the world, thought Quentyn. My bride-to-be, if the gods are good. (ADWD, The Merchant’s Man)

-> -> Nope.

It will be warmer when the sun comes up. If the gods are good, the Wall may weep. (ADWD, Jon II)

-> -> No mention is made of the Wall weeping that day.

If the gods were good, Lannister's severed head was halfway back to King's Landing by now, but more like the dwarf was hale and whole and somewhere close, stinking drunk and plotting some new infamy. (ADWD, The Lost Lord)

-> -> Tyrion’s head remains attached.

"If the gods are good, we won't encounter any wildlings. I'll want the grey gelding." (ADWD, Jon VII)

-> -> They do.

He will give me back to Ramsay then, he thought, and Ramsay will take a few more fingers and turn me into Reek once more. Unless the gods were good, and Stannis Baratheon descended on Winterfell and put all of them to the sword, himself included. That was the best he could hope for. (ADWD, The Prince of Winterfell)

-> -> He doesn’t. Making it unlikely that Stannis will kill Theon at all.

"Val will return." Before Stannis, if the gods are good. (ADWD, Jon VIII)

-> -> SUBVERTED. Val does return, and before Stannis too.

If the gods are good, by now she has found Tormund Giantsbane. (ADWD, Jon IX)

-> -> SUBVERTED. Val has found Tormund by then, indeed.

Red Jeyne and Jez and Helicent would tear him to pieces if the gods were good. Or worse, he might be taken back alive. (ADWD, A Ghost in Winterfell)

-> -> It happens very differently.

If the gods were good, he might stumble on the Blackfish, or lure Beric Dondarrion into an unwise attack. (ADWD, Jaime I)

-> -> None of this happens on the way to Raventree.

Brienne, where are you? Have you found her? "… if the gods are good, she'll forget she was a Stark. She'll wed some burly blacksmith or fat-faced innkeep, fill his house with children, and never need to fear that some knight might come along to smash their heads against a wall."

"The gods are good," his hostage said, uncertainly. (ADWD, Jaime I)

-> -> Neither Stark sister forgets who she is, and neither is likely to do the above.

With Rowan's help, Theon got Jeyne Poole into Squirrel's clothes. If the gods are good and the guards are blind, she may pass. (ADWD, Theon I)

-> -> SUBVERTED. Jeyne is not recognized.

She is not my queen, he might have said. If truth be told, the day of her departure cannot come too fast for me. And if the gods are good, she will take Melisandre with her. (ADWD, Jon XI)

-> -> UNDECIDED.

If the gods were good, the wrinkled old cunt might crash into Septa Unella and take her down with her. (ADWD, Cersei I)

-> -> No septas go tumbling down stairs.

Tormund turned back. "You know nothing. You killed a dead man, aye, I heard. Mance killed a hundred. A man can fight the dead, but when their masters come, when the white mists rise up … how do you fight a mist, crow? Shadows with teeth … air so cold it hurts to breathe, like a knife inside your chest … you do not know, you cannot know … can your sword cut cold?"

We will see, Jon thought, remembering the things that Sam had told him, the things he'd found in his old books. Longclaw had been forged in the fires of old Valyria, forged in dragonflame and set with spells. Dragonsteel, Sam called it. Stronger than any common steel, lighter, harder, sharper … But words in a book were one thing. The true test came in battle.

"You are not wrong," Jon said. "I do not know. And if the gods are good, I never will." (ADWD, Jon XII)

-> -> UNDECIDED. But the bit about dragonsteel is kind of begging to be subverted big time.

And if the gods are good, you will not dream of dragons. (ADWD, The Queen’s Hand)

-> -> UNDECIDED. We have no clue what Missandei dreams of.

If the gods were good, by now Obara Sand had treed him in his mountain fastness and put an end to him. (TWOW, Arianne I)

-> -> UNDECIDED. But unlikely to be that easy.

"Your lordship should not believe such nonsense," Alayne said. "I'm sure Ser Harrold loves you well." And if the gods are good, he will love me too. (TWOW, Alayne I)

-> -> UNDECIDED. But extremely unlikely, given his terrible first impression and his red shirt status.

He does have pretty hair. If the gods are good and he lives long enough to wed, his wife will admire his hair, surely. That much she will love about him. (TWOW, Alayne I)

-> -> UNDECIDED. But begging to be subverted, since everyone is counting on him to die. Maybe he’ll just go bald really early.

#rouka queue #if the gods are good #phrases in asoiaf #subversion #asoiaf speculation #long post

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